Just Thinking of You, Friend
by Deep Roller
Summary: Snape polishes his wand and thinks about revenge, Sirius, and other happy topics. Heeeh!


Just Thinking of You, Friend  
  
By Deep Roller  
  
Author's Note: Well, it had to be done. So I did it. I hope everyone enjoys. The meaning is in the eye of the beholder I guess. Some people have incorrigible minds, but we'll leave them to it.  
  
Disclaimer: Severus Snape is not mine and I'm sure JK Rowling would be severely disturbed by half the stuff people put on here. I just want to illustrate the little seen side of the Harry Potter world.  
  
It was a mundane December evening, close to midnight and so dark candlelight was necessary for any sort of task, unless you wished to stub a part of your anatomy against some heavy statue that lurked in the dark and waited to break toes. Or you could fall down one of the many mischievous staircases that just loved such a hapless wanderer.  
  
But Severus Snape wasn't chancing any of that. He was having enough trouble in his own office. Earlier that afternoon a hapless Neville Longbottom had been the cause of quite a commotion, as usual. The boy had been handing in his Sapglue potion when he tripped and spilled the entire contents of the vial all over the desk and Snape's robes and wand. Severus marveled that the boy was in his fourth year. Had he been in Slytherin, he'd have been out before his first term was up. Of course, Snape amended, had he been in Slytherin, he'd have been weeded out of such qualities as clumsiness and bumble hands.  
  
But what had been done was done, and now the dratted stuff wasn't coming off the wand. He had discarded the robes, giving them up for hopeless, but the wand was his only one. Using just about every type of solvent he could think to make wasn't working, and how could you spell your own wand?   
  
He reached into his cabinet, thinking to try one final remedy. If it didn't work, he'd have to wear gloves for a good long time, or risk the wand sticking to his hand permanently. He thought darkly how much his old school chums would enjoy such a display. They'd have made great fun of him, "Sticky Fingered Snivellus", would have been a common name, probably bestowed upon him by that prat Black. Perhaps the fumes from this particular mix of rosemary and distilled bison stomach acid were getting to him, if he was reminiscing. He didn't particularly enjoy thinking about the past. Especially not Black, who he had been so close to killing. That would have been great.  
  
Severus snarled at the thought of Black's grinning, stupid face, and scrubbed his wand harder with the cloth. Black, who had been such a torment to him and would continue to be. Dumbledore, he knew, had allowed Black's escape with eyes shut tight against consequences. The polish was worked furiously into the grain of the wood, back and forth in time with Snape's angry thoughts. What he would do to Sirius if the man were standing right here in front of him. Another furious grate against the wand at these murderous thoughts caused a few sparks to leap from the end. The hexes, first a fully body bind and then a few tickling curses, light at first and then turning swiftly to painful bites of anguish. Avada Kedavra was much too good for Sirius. Oh yes, Severus would enjoy watching him bleed and twitch as he stood by, laughing breezily and holding his wand in a taunting way, daring Sirius to do anything but take the payback.  
  
But Sirius might not be able to do anything, since Snape had a sneaking suspicion the man didn't have a wand anymore. Just as well. The wood clicked against the table with the furiousness of the polishing job. Snape's face was a grimace of concentration. He wasn't exactly thinking about the job at hand anymore. He could bet if Sirius did still have his wand, it was badly out of repair, no match for Snape's own. But he'd probably try for it, if it came to that. Sirius was nothing if not stupid. In his mind he could visualize the match, both of them staring into each other's eyes with cautious, angry wariness. Who would strike first? Sirius, probably. Snape was working himself into a rage with this visualization, sweating as he ignored what his muscles were engaged in. He didn't even notice that his wand, having been so zealously cleaned, was now completely free of Sapglue. 


End file.
